


The Return of House Peverell

by AuroraAustralis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gringotts Bank, House of Black, House of Peverell (Potter family), Lords of the Wizengamot, More will be added, Parley, The Seven Houses, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:11:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraAustralis/pseuds/AuroraAustralis
Summary: Hiding in a little cottage protected with nothing more than a simple Fidelius Charm is the height of stupidity - especially if a Dark Lord is trying to kill your son and you do not even have your wand with you all the time. Except, except of course there is another plan - a plan you believe to work and protect your family. A plan nobody knows about except your wife and your best friend - your brother in everything but blood - who suspects things he should not know.Because if you have already scouted the forbidden forest for years with a werewolf in tow no less and manipulated the wards of one of the two most secured buildings in England - and all that while still being a student - surely it needs more than a Dark Lord to kill you and your family?





	1. Prologue - Lord Black

**Prologue - Lord Black**

 

_February 21, 1986_

_Black Manor_

_Ceredigion, Wales_

 

„Pollux is achieving the impossible. Each time I am forced to interact with him my resentment to him increases. Furthermore, his son and grandson in-law do not leave me any hope. If possible, they are even worse. The insolence and presumption of these persons. At the moment, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black still has its own heir, one of our own blood and lineage at that – and not some French upstart.”

A quiet cough from his left brought an end to the musings of one Lord Arcturus Sirius Black III. His wife, Lady Melania Black née Macmillan assumed a rather amused expression. Through the brought glass front eastwards the mellow light of the dawn illuminated her aged but nonetheless still beautiful face – at least according to Lord Arcturus Black’s opinion, and truthfully, his was the only crucial one concerning his decisions and thoughts. He did not and never had cared about all those who deemed themselves worthy of imposing their own opinion on him. Some of them even had had the impudence to lecture him about his duties and actions – him, the current Lord Black and patriarch of House Black. His only true confidant over the years was his dear wife.

“Disregarding your personal disfavours, the Malfoys are hardly some upstarts and moreover left France nearly a millennium ago. Pollux on the other hand-, well Pollux is just Pollux. Up until now I am still contented with the favourable outcome of the proceedings concerning the marriage contract between the Houses of Black and Macmillan.

Through I must admit to appraise their impudence as rather audacious. It was distasteful behaviour by Pollux to discuss his and young Draco’s aspirations to succeed you to the title and rank of Lord Black with Lord Malfoy – while you were in attendance at that. His birthday yesterday should have been no reason for him to lose his propriety.”

“Ever since we were ridden of this megalomaniac half-blood the reputation of House Black was defiled. My own son and his wife spouted his beliefs as if those had been some infallible wisdoms. Their own sons – my two only grandchildren – are dead or as good as dead because of this. And my grandniece was the additional and last incident to doom the once predominant House of Black.

Since the time of the Seven Houses the House of Black was always one of the most important political, economic and social powers on this island. But one generation and a weak-minded society concluded everything – and our last influence in the ministry was shredded by Malfoy in favour of salvaging his own reputation and rank.

And now this presumptuous people dare to speculate about their ascension to the title of Lord Black. As if one of them would deserve to ascend to this position and to wield the magic of this old family – as if one of them could hope to tame her. They would never be able to respect her superiority.

They show their ignorance and inferiority by claiming which is not theirs to claim. Before any of them will succeed me – there are two others.”

For a moment silence descended upon the room. Both deep in thought about their past – the people they had lost and left behind. But eventually confusion about the last statement made itself felt.

“Two? Which two people are in order of succession – even before your own cousin Pollux? Obviously, Sirius – why they are all suffering under the misapprehension that he was disinherited by you, I do not know. After all, Walburga burning him off some more or less tasteful wall decoration is not equivalent to excluding him from the succession.”

“Two.

Before his incarceration Sirius added one more person to our family. It must have been through the means of a very old and nowadays probably even prohibited ritual. Otherwise my consent as the patriarch of House Black would have been crucial to the success of the blood adoption.”

“A blood adoption? Since the Middle Ages not many have partaken in such an old and sacred ritual. The ministry even wants to prohibit them altogether. Why would someone risk the penalties of the ministry and the wrath of the society – because it had to be an old family, anybody else would not have had the necessary information and requirements to accomplish such a ritual. Sirius could not have helped them with those – he had left 12 Grimmauld Place with nothing more than his clothes and most prized possessions and never returned or came here to glean the necessary information.”

“To this day, I do not know for sure who the other participants of the ritual were. But I believe I am able to venture an educated guess. To partake in a blood adoption was not only prohibited for whomever was adopted into the family and their true parents but also for Sirius. He was – or more accurate he still is – the adoptive father. And even if our son and his wife were determined to illustrate Sirius’ supposed stupidity and brashness since he was sorted into the House of Gryffindor, it is my believe that he still was and is the same intelligent and prudent person he was as a small child. He would not have risked something of this kind for just anyone.

Furthermore, while the family magic could not forward anything more than the case that a human being younger than Sirius was recorded and accepted into the family and since then benefited from her protection, a visit to Gringotts was far more revealing.

Gringotts – due to their responsibility to ensure the enforcement of the true succession and therewith related right to the family vaults, has been enabled to access the therefor necessary information – could not provide any information except the exact date of birth of the other participant.

Considering these deliberations one child was the most probable. And since the day I saw a picture of the child, taken after the blood adoption, I feel certain in my knowledge about the blood adopted child’s identity. The appearance of this child resembled his father’s to the point where I can only presume the use of some appearance changing potions, charms or even rituals – but there was no apparent reason for such a drastic measure, unless it was to hide a third parent through a prohibited blood adoption.”

Lady Black, as a rule the restraint and conduct in person, was sincerely contemplating to threaten her husband with violence if he did not conclude his deliberations soon. She was well aware that almost nothing could persuade her husband to reveal his information if he was convinced that something else had to be revealed beforehand. She could only hope that everything important was already told and she could learn of his assumption.

With this in mind, “ _Who?_ ”

“One boy Sirius would probably consider his own – even before the ritual.

Harry James Potter.

At least that is the name everyone in our world knows. I would suspect a change or alteration of name over the course of the ritual.”

“Harry Potter? The one who is known to have vanquished the Dark Lord and in whose aftermath the House of Black suffered? The one…

 _You_ would prefer Potter – the son of a pure blood and a muggle born, therefore a half blood – to Draco Malfoy, a pure blood whose mother is a daughter of House Black?”

“Yes.

At the moment it is a risk. I do not know Potter and I was not successful in my attempts to locate him – even charging the respecting people did not yield different outcomes. But observing the Malfoy heir I am not willing to disinherit the young Potter and thereby to waste the House of Black on the Malfoys.

Moreover, because of the blood adoption the old laws elevate his blood status. In addition to his muggle born mother Harry Potter has now two fathers who are both pure bloods from old families. Those two fathers are qualifying him as a pure blood – the blood status of the third parent has no further importance.

Besides, have you ever met Lily Potter née Evans? Any son of hers will be more worthy of being Lord Black than those Malfoys’ will ever be – despite Narcissa being a daughter of House Black.

 _Toujours pur. Toujours fidèle._ ”

The following silence and any subsequent arguments were prevented by the soundless appearance of the latest _Daily Prophet_ – even if you did not believe one word written in this paper, it is worth while to know the current public opinion. Additionally, a letter came along with the morning paper – a rare occurrence, after all the house-elves knew to send his received correspondence to his study where he will relocate to after breakfast. Only letters from the ministry, Gringotts or a close family member were to be delivered to the small dining room he and his wife designated as their personal dining room.

The face of the letter bore nothing more than two elegantly written words – _Lord Black_. That certainly precluded the ministry. They only used unified envelopes containing more information about the letter’s recipient – even for a Lord of the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot itself again had its own design.

A letter form Gringotts or a family member then. Considering the birthday celebration yesterday and the attendance of most family members – who therefore had ample opportunities to approach him – lend no credence to the last possibility.

A letter from Gringotts then. Seized and flipped over the official seal of Gringotts – two crossed-over battle axes around which the motto _Fortius Quo Fidelius_ was inscribed – was revealed. Such a letter outside of the bank’s regular schedule of his statement _was not_ likely to contain pleasant news.

Nonetheless he resignedly opened the letter already expecting the need to reschedule his day – after all this letter could convey any and all piece of news to him.

 

_Lord Black,_

_Gringotts Bank England herewith wishes to bring a certain matter to your attention._

_Gringotts Bank England approaches you on behalf of a certain client of Gringotts Bank – who for the time being wishes to remain anonymous. This client requested Gringotts Bank England to serve as an impartial host in relation to his urgent request to provide the requisite necessities to conduct the old and sacred tradition of Parley._

_Herewith, Gringotts Bank England officially informs you, Lord Arcturus Sirius Black III, of your requested appearance at your earliest convenience in the Gringotts Bank England branch in Diagon Alley, London._

_As the invited party to the old and sacred tradition of Parley Gringotts Bank England ensures your safety during the duration of your attendance in the Gringotts Bank England branch in Diagon Alley, London in order to enable the procedure of the protected meeting._

_Furthermore, Gringotts Bank England is obliged to inform you to abstain from any violent acts towards the inviting party to the old and sacred tradition of Parley. Violation of this rule by you will force Gringotts Bank England to expel you from the premises of the Gringotts Bank England branch in Diagon Alley, London and to inflict a fine which will be immediately transferred to the injured party._

_Fortius Quo Fidelius._

_Gringotts Bank England_

 

After reading the letter, the addressed Lord Black passed the letter to his wife.

“Who could possibly request Gringotts to serve as a host to this procedure?

And even more important – _whom_ would they grant such a request?”

 

∞

 

An hour later a still slightly tensed Lord Black apparated in front of the Gringotts Bank England in Diagon Alley, London. He climbed the marble steps to the guarded but opened burnished bronze doors which were gleaming in the sunlight. Swiftly crossing the small entrance chamber and walking through another guarded and opened door – this one pure silver – he arrived in the well-known vast marble hall and determinedly strode to one of the many goblins seated at the long counters stretching along the hall.

Considering the rareness of a request for Parlay these days and the circumstance he was already causing a stir with his appearance – after all, _he_ still was Lord Black, no matter what some other family members tried to scheme behind his back – he refrained from voicing his business and just handed the letter he received in the morning over.

The goblin opposite him merely glanced at the letter before he called another goblin and barked at him something in their own language – he refused to call the language of any sentient race by such a derogating name just because some wizards in the past were to dumb to understand it.

With a short, “Follow me, Lord Black” the second goblin turned around again and steered towards one of the doors which were situated around the hall. After leaving the impressive marble main hall of Gringotts and entering through a door another impressive and long hall was revealed. On the left and right side, the hall was lined with other doors which were adorned with signs inscribed with words or even seals.

Exactly opposite the door through which Lord Black entered this hall was another impressive double door with golden adornments. His guide stopped shortly before reaching this door and surprisingly turned around to address him.

“Lord Black, it is my duty to remember you that any act of violence against the other party of this old and sacred tradition, who already is behind these doors, will be punished accordingly. Furthermore, Gringotts will also be ensuring your own security and will… confirm that the other party to this old and sacred tradition is no imposter and has not… assumed an identity not his own.”

The last part of the goblin’s speech was unexpected, his father had not taught him anything about the goblins explicitly confirming the other party’s genuine identity – before even meeting them at that. Maybe the old deliverances about the proceedings were wrong or changed over the years, the last recorded request of Parley had been a long time ago after all.

Before he could further contemplate the matter, the doors were opened by his guide and an even more impressive hall was revealed. Light streamed through windows in the ceiling and illuminated a large round table in the middle of the room.

The most astonishing thing in this room however were not the goblin guards with their gleaming battle axes, the rich and magnificent adornments decorating every wall or even the white marble floor with inlaid gold and gems. No, the most astonishing thing in this room was the person rising from a chair around the table and turning around to face him. A person who was believed to be dead for more than four years.

So, Lord Black’s reaction, the dignified and seasoned Lord he was, was completely comprehensible and explicable – a sputtered “ _What??? Potter???_ ”


	2. Chapter 1: A Journey Through Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little trip through time.  
> Introduces some important events.

# Chapter 1: A Journey Through Time

 

Note: For the sake of simplicity everything has been translated into Modern English.

 

 

_c. AD 634_

_Londinium_

 

“After the end of the Roman Empire many tribes have settled all over our two islands. Some of them respecting and practicing magic, others are… _less_ knowing and could pose a threat. I believe it to be in our best interest to end our conflicts and altogether cooperate.” An opinion expressed by the current Head of the Slytherin family and shared by the other six men gathered around the round hearth.

“To establish a council to meet and discuss our affairs. A council in which all of us are allowed to share their opinions and equally vote on affairs concerning all of us. Meeting on several occasions every year. Each time another of us seven can host our future meetings.” After these last words voiced by the current head of the Peverell family the seven men briefly discussed the terms of the next meeting before parting.

 

∞

 

_c. AD 993_

_Hogwarts Castle_

_Highlands, Scotland_

 

A somewhat round, plump woman with flaming red hair slowly ran through a lonely corridor in the upper floors of Hogwarts Castle. Once she spotted a tall and slightly intimidating woman with long black hair exiting a room to her left, she stopped running and shakily drew breath before addressing her.

“Rowena, the wards to protect Hogwarts Castle are still not finished. Our very first students are expected to arrive in no less than three months. If the wizards Gryffindor and Slytherin hired continue to work in the same manner in which they have worked over the last six months, they will never be finished in the necessary timeframe.”

“Do not worry, Helga. I have already contacted an old friend of mine; he should be able to help us. My owl returned yesterday with his answer and according to his reply we can expect him to arrive later today.”

“But whoever will be able to help us in the remaining time? Wards of this level will need time to be casted and to set. It will be nearly impossible for someone completely new to these wards to accomplish this task in the remaining timeframe.”

“Ah, yes. That is true. But you see, that friend of mine is one of the best – maybe even _the_ best. So, like I have already said, no need to worry.”

 

∞

 

_c. AD 1087_

_Ravenclaw Hall_

_Edinburgh, Scotland_

 

A meeting of seven wizards, each the head of a powerful family, could rapidly deteriorate if not for the established rules of procedure. According to those, every gathering started with a short speech delivered by the respective host. On a dreary and dark autumn night this person happened to be the patriarch of House Ravenclaw.

“Today we seven congregate for the last time in this constitution. The end of this year will see the end of an era. Our forefathers founded this council over four hundred years ago and now, more than four hundred years later their descendants determined the end of this council.

Instead we will be founding a completely new council – the Wizengamot. Seeing as our population further grows it became necessary to extend the circle of those who will make decisions about all our lives. This new council will be constituted of the heads of certain families. All those wizards shall work together, no matter which family they are descended from. Some of these families have lived in these lands for generations and some arrived from new shores just some generations ago.

We seven will still hold an elevated position. The statutory foundation of the Wizengamot firmly establishes and guarantees us this elevated position compared to those not yet experienced in ruling the complete population of country.

While we seven will be fewer in numbers compared to the other families – together, we still have the power to overrule decisions made by them. Through the contract we signed with our very own blood, Magic herself will protect our stipulated rights to the very end. Those rights can only be revoked if the heads of all our seven families approve of that decision – and even then, their approval must originate from a free and uncoerced mind.

The future will change but we will be always influencing these changes. It will be our decision if we want to apply the powers given to us, but our Seven Houses will be the beginning – and if we stay true – even the end.

_E pluribus unum._ ”

“ _E pluribus unum._ ” A muttered repetition of the motto which served as an aim and sometimes as an issue between those seven. Repeated for a last time on this dreary and dark evening.

 

∞

 

_November 1, 1247_

_Godric’s Hollow, England_

 

Lord Antioch Peverell apparated into a narrow alley remote from the primary route through the village of Godric’s Hollow on a darkening evening. The gathering of the Wizengamot earlier that day had been long and exhausting and the subsequent meeting with Lord Ravenclaw had done nothing to dispel his exhaustion.

He thrived while exploring as of yet unknown realms of magic or even while fighting in a duel – either to protect his family (or rather his three younger brothers seeing as his parents died years ago and he had no wife or children of his own) or to enhance and compare his skills by competing in a duelling tournament. But politics – politics and discussion about new and old laws had the capacity to fatigue him beyond belief.

Regardless, the oldest of his younger brothers had asked all of them to gather at his home in Godric’s Hollow. Lord Antioch Peverell could for the life of him not comprehend why one of his brothers had decided to live in this dreary little village in a likewise dreary little cottage – well dreary and little at least in comparison to the Peverell Manor in the Scottish Highlands.

While dwelling on these thoughts he approached the principal road of the village which would lead him to his destination – the little cottage one of his younger brothers now inhabited and which his mother had brought into his parents’ marriage as part of her dowry.

Shortly before the overcast sky could shed his moisture, he reached the small gate to the yard in front of the house. A fleet glance through a window showed his three younger brothers already seated in the lighted kitchen. While the two youngest chatted animatedly with each other, the third was seated slightly apart and seemed to take no part in his brothers’ discussion.

While the oldest brother had a good relationship with his two youngest siblings (after all he almost raised Ignotus after their parents’ death), his interactions with his third brother had always been strained. Maybe him living in Godric’s Hollow prevented many actually senseless disputes between the two of them.

Opening the door to the warmed house and striding through the hallway into the kitchen he was greeted with his three brothers raising from their chairs to demonstrate their due deference to their patriarch. Afterwards three persons turned around to face the brother who had invited them all.

“Follow me, I have something to show all of you.”

These short words were the only ones directed towards his three brothers Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell before they were forced to follow their mutual brother, who was already exiting the room. He led them to a small door at the other side of the hallway which once opened revealed a narrow staircase down into a dark cellar.

 

∞

 

_May 19, 1292_

_Peverell Cottage_

_Godric’s Hollow, England_

 

With seventy-seven years his father had drawn his last breath earlier today. He wandered through the little cottage and while grieving his father’s death regretted that he had not taken him home. But after all the things which had happened in his father’s past, he had been adamant about living his last years in this little cottage.

A cottage deeply interwoven with his father’s life and shaping him into the person he had been until his last breath. After that fateful night in 1247 everything had changed for the three remaining brothers. Since that night all those years ago the name of his father’s second-oldest brother was never spoken again by any remaining family member. The three remaining brothers were changed persons for the rest of their lives.

In the case of Cadmus, the rest of his life had not been a long time. Hardly recuperated the next great misfortune had overtaken him. His beloved betrothed had fallen victim to a poison attack which had been aimed at Cadmus but his betrothed had been the victim by accident. Cadmus had deeply grieved for his love and had sought distraction in alcohol. On one of those nights he had made a woman he had met in a pub pregnant. But before this daughter of House Gaunt had had the chance to inform Cadmus about his impending fatherhood, he had taken his own life. Unable to handle his grief he had never learned about the birth of his son nearly nine months later and therefore this little boy had never been recognized as a Peverell, nevertheless his mother had declared him a Son of House Peverell although he had never been recognized by the magic of the Peverell family.

Shortly afterwards Antioch had fallen victim to the same feud which had already taken Cadmus’ life – even if his death had been planned in another way. Antioch had been walking through a small wizarding settlement when he suddenly had been attacked by five skilled wizards, intending to kill him. Antioch had been one of the best duellers and fighters of his time but this time even he had been outnumbered and defeated. He had been able to take the life of three of his attackers before he had been able to escape. His escape had come at a high rate – a lethal wound which could not be healed before he had perished.

My father had been grieving for his two older brothers and at the same time had been obsessed with my mother’s and my protection. He had relocated us all to the heavily warded Manor in the Scottish Highlands. Since the death of the last Lord Peverell, Lord Antioch Peverell, my father had inherited the title of Lord Peverell but during the rest of his life he had never acknowledged it or had taken our family seat on the Wizengamot.

The Peverell family has always been known for their explorations of the unknown which attracted many people trying to learn our secrets. Every member of the last generation of my family had been forced to suffer because of this.

Since that fateful night the protection of our own had become an obsession of many family members. The Peverell cottage in Godric’s Hollow had been well known and therefore Lord Antioch Peverell had ordered no three days after that night the forged burial of all the three brothers – once their time on earth had passed – at the same local cemetery. The whole world should believe that the Peverell family lived in Godric’s Hollow and in Godric’s Hollow alone. The manor in the Highlands was well protected but what better additional protection than denying its very existence by pretending to live elsewhere.

While my father had preferred the impressive wards at Peverell Manor to protect his wife and son compared to living in Godric’s Hollow with his family, he had chosen a wizard knowledgeable in the realms of law and politics to represent him at the Wizengamot. To protect my wife and my little daughter Iolanthe – currently running around the house and not able to understand what was happening around her – I will also avoid the public.

And maybe, in some generations my family will be safe once again.

 

∞

 

_September 1, 1974_

_Hogwarts Express_

_King’s Cross Station, London, England_

 

A nearly fifteen-year-old boy with black hair and clothed in new and pristine robes heaved his large trunk into the small corridor of the Hogwarts Express currently still standing at its platform at King’s Cross Station.

The boy – once on board the train – hurried along the corridor and glanced in every compartment of the train he passed, seemingly searching for someone. After he passed around eighteen compartments a slight smile blossomed on his face.

Before his hand could reach the handle of the compartment door directly before him, the door was eagerly opened by a boy wearing glasses and with untamed dark hair. “Padfoot, I was afraid your charming parents wouldn’t let you go to Hogwarts this year. What took you so long? Moony, Wormtail and I arrived _ages_ ago.”

“James, give him a chance to enter the compartment and let him settle down. Besides, you arrived only about ten minutes ago yourself, Prongs”, a pale faced boy with light brown hair quipped in. The one called James ignored the boy’s quip and instead helped the newcomer to tuck his trunk away. Entering the compartment, the last and fourth occupant became visible to the newcomer, a boy with mousy brown hair seated in the corner of the compartment at the window which showed the meanwhile rolling by landscape.

“So, Moony would you do us the honours to raise a privacy ward? I have something to tell you.” Once Moony complied with Prong’s request, James opened his trunk and removed a stack of parchments. “This, my fellow Marauders will be the secret of our success.” The other occupants just stared questioningly at him prompting his resigned huff before he threw the parchments into the empty seat to his left.

“Really? Come on. Padfoot’s idea at the end of last term? Remember, we were on our way back to the Common Room under the Invisibility Cloak when we nearly ran into McGonagall? Padfoot suggested to create a map of Hogwarts which would show us where everyone is at every time of the day.”

“Yes, James, we remember. And the two of you even searched in the library for spells which could be used. You didn’t want to listen when I told you that it would be impossible. The Hogwarts wards are nearly thousand years old and have been strengthened many times since then. There is no way that four students will be able to somehow manipulate these wards to actually show them everyone’s presence – for that you would need a direct access to the wards. That’s just a completely pointless endeavour.”

“Ah, Moony you wound me. You have absolutely no trust and faith in your friends – it’s a shame. Just see and marvel.”

“Prongs, I’m sorry to disappoint you, mate, but there is absolutely nothing on your parchments – they’re blank”, Padfoot threw in after James recaptured his parchments and presented them to the other Marauders.

“Oh, yes sorry, guys. Dad insisted. Everyone just place a hand on the parchment and after I touch it too, after a moment you should be able to read everything. Let me tell you, it’s absolutely fantastic, …”

 

∞

 

_Autumn 1978_

_Peverell Manor_

_Highlands, Scotland_

 

Lord Fleamont Peverell, better known as Mr Fleamont Potter – at least to the regular Wizarding population – sat in his study, reading the latest letter from Mr Johnson. Mr Johnson was the Peverell Proxy and sat in the Peverell seat on the Wizengamot. He was one of the few people who actually knew who the Peverell family really was nowadays. Sometimes Fleamont Peverell regretted his inability to directly influence the happenings in the Wizengamot but if Fleamont red the last letter and the absurd proposals introduced by the likes of Lord Abraxas Malfoy, he remembered why he loathed politics. Besides managing and keeping up with all the businesses the family either owned or at least financed was already a full-time job.

His musings were interrupted by footsteps nearing his study’s door which halted just outside the room. A short knock, and the door was slightly opened to reveal the still somewhat sleepy head of his son, “May I come in, Dad?”

“Yes, sit down. Still a little tired, I see. Did you have a nice evening with Lily?”

“Ah, yes, it was … nice. Dad, I … I mean, do you … _Iwanttomarryher_.”

“James, do not mumble. What did you say?”

“I said that I … want to marry her … and with her I mean Lily … Lily and not somebody else … and I know you think that it’s stupid and that I don’t know her … but that’s not true … I – I mean I know her since she is elven and I really like her … I mean I love her and now …”

Fleamont had known that this day would arrive sooner or later, or to be honest rather sooner than later. You only had to watch the two of them and you would undoubtedly know that they were completely and irrevocably in love with each other. Even he was able to see that and had not needed his wife’s rather obvious allusions.

There was only one problem – James had not been completely honest to Lily. Truth be told, every one of the family members Lily had met had not been completely honest. And the well… _omissions_ (for the lack of a better word) had not been small. After all, Lily does not even know the true name of the man who wants to marry her. All in all, the basic conditions could have been better.

Moreover, Lily Evans was a muggle born, which was not bad per se but considering the developments in the Muggle society especially in this century could pose some problems. The children raised in the Wizarding society, meaning the pure bloods and a good share of the half-bloods, grew up with Wizarding traditions or at least the knowledge of them.

Disregarding the individual’s opinion on the traditional and patriarchal society the knowledge nearly every child raised in this society possessed about its traditions – even the old ones which were more and more seldom these days – helped them to understand and in most cases even accept those traditions should they be confronted with them. The Muggle society on the other hand had and still changed, had it been traditional and patriarchal in the past, it was now more equitable. He had observed that especially young and intelligent muggle born women disapproved of some of the older traditions which were favouring men. And Lily Evans fitted in this group of young and intelligent young women.

So, before James could actually ask her to marry him, he had to tell her that he had _omitted_ certain facts about himself – well at least for that he could assume the responsibility, inform her about the necessary marriage ritual, at least necessary for a Peverell and especially the next Lord Peverell, which was… rather _traditional and patriarchal_ and tell her that she could never work at the Ministry, St Mungo’s or for any other employer who insisted on an official identity check – apart from Gringotts maybe.

In short, he _did not_ envy his son.

“James, ….”

 

∞

 

_Summer 1979_

_Peverell Manor_

_Highlands, Scotland_

 

Lily Evans was nervous. Today was the day. The day she was about to marry James and start her new life with him as husband and wife. But she was nervous.

And the last time she was as nervous as today was… she could not even remember when the last time was. Maybe her N.E.W.T.s? And since then so many things had happened. She had been attacked by Death Eaters; she had been applying at St Mungo’s to become a Healer; she had been attacked by Voldemort; she had been granted a place at St Mungo’s to study; James had asked her to marry him, well after he had told her the truth about him and his family and she had screamed at him a bit or even a bit more; she had to drop her apprenticeship at St Mungo’s but due to Fleamont’s connections had been able to continue her apprenticeship with a private healer; James and herself had been attacked by Voldemort again; and still, she was nervous today.

What if the family magic would not accept her? Or what if she could not remember the necessary words during the ritual? Or what if ….

Her internal musings were fortunately interrupted by a slight knock on the parlour door. Before she was completely able to compose herself, the door was opened and Euphemia entered the room. Her soon-to-be mother-in-law had been with her the entire morning and had helped her to stay calm and to prepare herself for the ritual. Euphemia’s husband and son had received the arriving family which had come for the celebrations after the ritual and the _staged_ wedding tomorrow. But as Fleamont, James and Charlus went into the basement to prepare the ritual, Euphemia had left her for a short while to support Dorea to receive the last guests. Now she had returned to the parlour in which Lily had been waiting to accompany her to the ritual room.

“Lily, are you ready?”

 

∞

 

_Winter 1979/80_

_Peverell Manor_

_Highlands, Scotland_

 

James Potter exited the mausoleum on the grounds of the Peverell estate. He had prepared the place where his father would come to rest for the last time – next to his mother. His mother had died four days ago, too weak to further battle the Dragon Pox to which she succumbed.

After the death of his wife Fleamont had seemed to have lost any will to battle his own illness and his health condition had deteriorated until he had died earlier that day. And now, his father not even buried, he was on his way to the ritual room to claim Headship of House Peverell and its Lordship. His Uncle Charlus had arrived earlier today to lead the ceremony. In times like these it was not wise to leave the family unprotected.

 

∞

 

_Spring 1981_

_Peverell Manor_

_Highlands, Scotland_

 

Lord James Peverell sat in his study near the Manor’s library and read through old and dusty tomes and parchments. Ever since he knew that Riddle was after his family he had spent more and more of his time in this library. Apart from the times he had joined his family for a meal, he had not seen much of his wife and son.

But somewhere inside these rooms had to be a solution to protect his little family without hiding for the rest of their days. Even if she did not want to show it, Lily was restless. Harry’s magic was so unsettled that she no longer dared to venture out into the Muggle world. Instead the both of them were more or less confined to the Manor. And that took its toll.

Maybe he would be able to find something if he had help, but apart from his family and Sirius (and maybe Remus) there was no one he trusted. And even they were not able to enter the Lord’s study or to read some of the more obscure tomes and parchments. Unfortunately, those were the most likely to contain what he needed.

And all that because of a prophecy. Dumbledore did not even consider to tell him about this prophecy or its content. No, the old man just told him to hide his family and to trust him. How he ever believed Dumbledore was a good man is beyond him. Of course, his parents had told him not to trust that man but now, it surpassed everything.

And he would do everything to protect his little family. _Everything._

 

 


End file.
